A Farewell
by Clockspider
Summary: The Dragonborn, a wood elf named Wyliah, contemplates a grave task ahead of her and spends time with her family. Endgame and Thieves' Guild spoilers.


How long ago was it that a bosmer living in the wilds of southern Skyrim had been mistakenly captured by Imperials and then saved from execution by the harbinger of the end times? How long since she discovered she had dragon's blood and learned to Shout? Since she joined the Thieves' Guild and became a Nightingale? Since she built a home, married a loving dock worker, and adopted a daughter?

The bosmer in question had no idea, herself. Wyliah always had a terrible sense of time: even after returning to civilization and being swept up in the chaos of being the Dragonborn, she wandered through the weeks and months with barely a notice given to the changing seasons. But there was an impending deadline that weighed heavily on her mind as she stared up at the moons from the top of her enchanter's tower.

Tomorrow, she had to kill Alduin. Permanently. It was a somewhat daunting task to someone who had thought herself unimportant for most of her life, and she wasn't even sure that she would be successful. The various members of her household, though, had nothing but the utmost faith in her. The bosmer wished she could share in their belief.

The tower's trapdoor creaked quietly, bringing Wyliah back out of her thoughts. She turned to see the intruder, and saw her daughter Sofie duck back down the ladder upon being spotted. "Sofie, you oughtn't sneak around your mama," the bosmer said softly, stepping away from the railing to sit in one of the chairs. "She's better at it than you are."

The young nord girl opened the trapdoor the rest of the way, smiling sheepishly as she clambered onto the upper floor. "Sorry, mama," she said, hopping up to sit the chair next to Wyliah's. "I woke up and saw the tower door was open a little."

"That's all right, sweetling." Wyliah wrapped her arm around her daughter, pulling her a bit closer, and kissed the top of her head. "I think I needed the company tonight anyway, but I didn't want to wake anyone."

Sofie smiled and leaned against her mother's side. "I'll go back to bed soon, mama, don't worry," she said. "I just wanted to see you."

Wyliah managed to smile as well. "That's my girl. And you'll see me again in the morning, too." She paused for a moment, letting the crackling fire on the lower level fill the silence. "Would you like me to braid your hair, Sofie? I think you would look very pretty."

Sofie looked up at her, positively beaming. "That'd be great, mama!" she exclaimed, quickly covering her mouth from how loud she was, and just as quickly uncovering it. "I want to look just like you!"

The bosmer chuckled and pulled her child onto her lap, separating groups of hair out. "Unless your ears become pointy, I don't think that will happen…"

The trapdoor opened once more while Wyliah was in the middle of braiding. Scouts-Many-Marshes, Wyliah's Argonian husband, emerged, carrying a lantern with him. "I don't know how you stand it so dark up here, dear ones," he said, placing it precariously on the railing before sitting next to the girls.

"Perhaps I should have married a Khajiit instead," Wyliah joked, throwing him a wry smile. "He would be warmer to share a bed with, too…"

Sofie gave her mother a pout. "Mama, don't say that," she protested. "That's what furs are for!" And then, to her father, in a quick change of subject: "Papa, mama's braiding my hair! Do you like it?"

Scouts nodded, admiring Wyliah's handiwork. "Perhaps this Loredas we can go to Whiterun and find you a hair ornament to wear," he suggested. When Sofie shook her head as much as she could without interrupting her mother's work, he added, "Oh? Then perhaps you would like to wear forest flowers in your hair?"

"Mama's going to bring me home a hairpin made from Alduin's scales," the girl insisted, as if that had already been decided. "Then none of the other children will ever tease me."

Wyliah smiled. "None of them tease you now, sweetling," she said, tying off the end of Sofie's hair with some string. "Not with me as your mother, they don't."

Sofie fought to suppress a yawn as she tried to get a look at her new braid. "Well, it's just in case, then," she said, not even protesting as Wyliah picked her up.

"I think it's time for little warriors to go to bed," the bosmer said, balancing her daughter on her hip. Scouts gave her a Look, and she continued, "Big warriors too, I suppose…" Carefully, she descended the ladder. Sofie was fast asleep once again before Wyliah returned her to bed with her doll.

Scouts put down the now-extinguished lantern, then took Wyliah's hand as she returned to the hallway. "Come along to bed, my dear one," he crooned, nuzzling her forehead with the end of his snout. "Even the Dragonborn needs to sleep sometimes." They both returned to the master bedroom and, once curled up under the fur covers with her husband, Wyliah found she was indeed able to sleep.

In the morning, the household was awoken by the smell of breakfast, and quite a large one at that; their steward, Rayya, had prepared a small feast just for the occasion, though it took the combined efforts of Sofie and Scouts to get Wyliah to eat everything placed on her plate. After the table was cleared, Wyliah requested an hour to be alone, and retreated to the second floor.

There was a covered mannequin in the upper hallway. Recently, Wyliah had been saving up the skin from slain dragons, then spending time undisturbed in the outside forge. She knew that only the best armor would do, and luckily, her experience in crafting all other sorts of armor was the best help she could ask for.

She pulled off the canvas, unveiling the full set of dragonskin armor that she would wear in the fight against Alduin, and began to equip herself.

An hour later, Scouts called for her from outside. She slung her quivers of Daedric and Ebony arrows over her left shoulder, hooked the night-black bow she'd gotten from a certain Nightingale on her armor, descended, and exited.

Scouts, Sofie, and Rayya were all waiting outside for her. Sofie was the only one surprised by the armor, running over to Wyliah and touching everything with a good deal of wonder; apparently the others had taken little peeks at the unfinished armor. "Sweetling, I have to summon my special carriage now," Wyliah said, gently pushing Sofie away. She stepped away from the house and looked up to the sky, closing her eyes so the sun would not blind her.

The Dragonborn opened her mouth, and a mighty Shout came forth:

"_**ODAHVIING!**_"

For a moment, there was only the echo of the Shout. But then, Sofie gasped and pointed as a large dark shape eclipsed the sun, then dove into a spiral towards the house. Odahviing, the great rust-colored dragon who had pledged himself to serve the Dragonborn, landed among the trees, then carefully walked towards the house, staring down at the small bosmer.

"I see you have some new armor, Dovahkiin," he rumbled, giving the other mortals no notice. "Are you prepared to depart at last?"

Wyliah nodded, staring into the dragon's shiny black eye without flinching. "I just need one more moment, Odahviing," she said. "…I had to show off my daughter one more time before leaving." She turned and went back to her family to give her farewells.

Odahviing glanced over to Sofie, who was now hiding behind Scouts, wide-eyed, and merely nodded. This seemed to give the girl a bit of courage; she emerged from behind her father, holding her doll as tight as she could. "You promise to bring mama back," she said, giving the dragon a similar look to what Wyliah had given. "Or I'll hunt you down and Shout you out of the sky too!"

Wyliah picked her daughter up. "You oughtn't scold dragons, Sofie," she said sternly, though secretly proud that her daughter could be so bold. "Even though Odahviing is on our side, he's still not very nice." Sofie merely pouted, but softened a bit when Wyliah kissed her on both cheeks. "Be good to your papa and to Rayya, sweetling."

She set her daughter down, then looked at Scouts. "May your arrows fly true and pierce Alduin's hateful heart," the Argonian said, giving her the closest to a kiss that he could muster. Stepping closer, he murmured. "My heart goes with you. Should you die, so shall it."

"You should've been a bard," Wyliah said, returning the kiss to the tip of his snout. "I will guard your heart with armor stronger than any blacksmith can forge, my dearest one."

Finally, she turned to Rayya, her faithful Housecarl and now steward. "You have served me well, my friend," she said, placing both hands on her shoulders. "But I have to do this alone."

Rayya smiled halfway. "Someone needs to look after your family while you're off slaying dragons, ma'am," she said. "I'll have dinner waiting for you, no matter how late you return." The two shared a tight hug, then Wyliah returned to the dragon.

All three mortals cried out wishes of luck and glory as Wyliah climbed onto Odahviing's mighty back and held on tight. With a flap of wings that could level any weaker building, Dov and Dovahkiin ascended into the sky, flying to Skuldafn together.

"You need to have more faith in your own abilities, Dovahkiin," Odahviing said, once they were far from the house. "I feel you shaking in your armor."

"Be silent and fly," Wyliah said, trying to calm herself as they continued to her victory… Or to her doom.


End file.
